


Never Boring

by prettybirdy979



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Community: cabinpres_fic, Gen, Humor, Secrets, Socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin's socks are a little odd...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Boring

At first it had a case of necessity. Martin had had to be at a client’s house in half an hour with the house being on the other side of Fitton and with him running late having just gotten back from a flight with MJN. He didn’t have time to search his flat or washing for a pair of socks so he grabbed the first two he found in the washing basket, pulled them and his shoes on and dashed out the door.

It wasn’t until he took his shoes off that night he realised he had grabbed odd socks, with one being blue and the other white. He thanked his luck he had been wearing long pants and left it at that.  
Until he went to sort the washing out and found himself with one blue sock and one white sock left over.

 _Well, wearing odd socks once didn’t hurt and no one noticed…_ he thought. _I guess wearing them once more won’t hurt any._ Shrugging, he rolled the odd socks together and placed them with the others.

********

 _“Hey, Martin!”_ Came his brother’s voice over the phone.

Martin sighed. He had only just got the phone before it stopped ringing and now he wished he had just let it go. He wasn’t in the mood to hear about his brother’s perfect job as an accountant or his lovely wife. Though it would be nice to know how little Sally was going…

“Hello Simon. How’s everyone?” Martin checked the clock, realised he should start getting ready for his next client whose stuff he would moving in two hours. He moved into his bedroom to grab his clothes.

 _“We’re all fine Martin. Sally keeps wanting to know when her Uncle Marty will visit. You know how she loves the stories you make up about your job.”_

Martin just hummed in agreement as he pulled his clothes out. He was tired of protesting that his stories were all true. Even the one where Arthur had managed to create a jelly that walked away whenever a spoon was placed near it.

Simon continued. _“It’s nice seeing you with her. You look like you’re having, and for once you stop being a stick in the mu…I mean you stop thinking about rules and stuff.”_

Martin flinched. “What do you mean Simon?”

 _“Nothing, bro. It’s just… you’re a little up tight. You could do to loosen up a bit. Be less…boring occasionally.”_

“Right. Give Sally my love. I’ll talk to you later.”

 _”Martin-“_ Simon cried as Martin hung up. Martin threw the phone at his pillows and sat down heavily on his bed. It wasn’t the first time he had heard what Simon had said, and usually it was in much stronger words but… somehow coming from his brother, who had known him forever it seemed so much…more.

The fact is, the only way it could have been worse to hear would have been if Douglas had said it and Martin wasn’t even going to think about what that meant.

“I’m boring. A boring, uptight stick in the mud that won’t stop talking about planes…” Martin rubbed his hands over his head. And his eyes landed on his open sock draw.

A strange feeling came over him. “I’ll show him boring.” Martin muttered as he dumped the socks in the draw on his bed.

It took an hour, and Martin was nearly late for his client, but every single sock pair he owned was now odd. It wasn’t much of a start against what Simon had said but it was a start.

********

The next day Simon called and apologised. Martin was fine as he was, he wouldn’t be Martin if he wasn’t… well a little uptight. Martin accepted that and derailed his plans to buy brighter shirts and change his personality. Not that he had had much of a plan for either.

But he couldn’t bring himself to go through the socks and find their pairs. It was actually kinda fun, wearing odd socks. Like a secret way of not being boring. He even tried to do it on a flight but something felt so… weird, wearing his captain’s uniform perfectly with a white and black sock. It felt like disrespect and Martin made sure he never wore his odd socks with the captain’s uniform.

But very soon wearing odd socks at all other times became a habit and Martin stopped thinking about it.

********

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Martin walked into the hotel room he was sharing with Arthur to find the man sitting on the floor,

Martin’s bag beside him. In front of Arthur were the six odd pairs of socks Martin had brought. Arthur had unrolled them all and was matching the socks up with their pairs.

“Oh hey Skip. I’m fixing your socks. Why do you have so many?”

“Because Arthur, your mother has booked us eight solid days of flights and I like to have a clean pair every day in case I decide to see any of the sights- wait, fixing my socks?”

“Yeah, they were broken when your bag fell off the bed Skip. I get why you want them, but why so many? You can wear a pair for four days if you don’t get them dirty.”

Martin closed his eyes in frustration. “Arthur I don’t care much about your poor foot care. How were my socks broken?”

“Oh, the colours didn’t match.” Arthur held up a red and green sock, “Like these were together. It must have happened when I knocked your bag off the bed so I thought I could fix it now and you would never know…guess that won’t happen now. Are you mad Skip?”

Martin was thrown for a second. “Umm… no Arthur I’m not mad.” He thought quickly. “Arthur, why don’t you go find Douglas and see if he’s found us somewhere for dinner. I’ll finish up here.”

“But, Skip-“

“I think he’s got cheese.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant! Thanks Skip!” He left the room skipping. Martin waited until his happy whistling had faded before returning his socks to their odd pairs and shoving them back into his bag.

********

“Were we in a hurry this morning?” Martin looked over at Douglas, confused at the comment. He had just finished the post take off checks for their long flight to San Francisco and wasn’t paying attention to his First Officer.

“What?”

“Your socks Sir.”

“My…socks?”

“I noticed as you arrived. You’re wearing red and green socks. A very odd pair I must say, Sir, considering uniform is black socks.”

“Oh God. I must have grabbed the wrong pair this morning. It’s not that obvious, is it?”

“No, not really. I just got lucky to spot them.” Douglas said with a smile. “But you grabbed the wrong pair this morning Captain? Are you saying you have pairs of socks that you deliberately make odd?”

“…No.” Martin lied.

“Martin, I’m shocked you would try to lie to me.”

Martin gave up. “Yes, Douglas. When I’m not in uniform I wear odd socks. Go ahead, tease me. It’s just a habit I have so I’m not as boring as everyone thinks I am.”

Douglas was silent for a long time, and Martin went back to watching the sky out the window.

“Madonna.”

Martin jumped when Douglas spoke. “What?”

“People who wear odd socks. Madonna.” In answer to Martin’s questioning look. “Helena is a very big fan. Kept showing me some article that mentioned it as a hint for her birthday.”

“She wanted odd socks?”

“No, the sunglasses mentioned.”

And Martin smiled.


End file.
